Deception
by Tendo Rei
Summary: Not every chrysalis hatches a butterfly. D imparts this lesson to a single mother, but perhaps she knows already.
1. Chapter 1

Deception

_Disclaimer: I do not own PoH, that pleasure belongs to the lovely Matsuri Akino._

_Warning: contains suggestion of domestic violence and just flat-out creepiness. Go forward at your own risk._

* * *

It was Friday, and that meant it was pudding-cup day at Pine Ridge pre-K. Happy young women doled out the cups of deliciousness to their young charges. A young woman with "Kyra" on her nametag stopped in front of a lone little boy, holding out one of the cups and a flimsy plastic spoon. The boy silently and intently continued stacking blocks, sucking his lower lip into his mouth. Kyra smiled and knelt down in front of him, wiggling the cup in what she hoped was a tantalizing manner. The boy looked briefly up, and sucked on his lower lip all the harder, trying to suppress a smile. Kyra chucked him under the chin and set the pudding in front of him.

"For when you want it, Jordan." She whispered.

The boy looked up at her with guarded eyes, and his right hand stole towards the cup. Kyra nodded encouragingly, and then she heard the playroom door bang open. Jordan's mother had gotten off her split-shift t pick him up, and none of the senior aides were around to talk to her. The jittery, abrupt woman preferred the older women working at the daycare, and studiously avoided eye contact with the younger aides.

"Hello, Ms. Greenwood," Kyra said with what she hoped was a disarming smile, "how are you doing today?"

Lizzie Greenwood stopped short of her son and cast a panicked glance at Kyra.

"I'm-I'm _fine_," she barked out. She reached for her son, who subtly shrank back, Kyra noticed.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to have a word with you about our spring project for the children?"

Lizzie straightened up, ears reddening slightly. Her hands were shaking a little. "What now?"

Kyra tried to make her voice as gentle as possible. "The district has given us the go-ahead for the silkworm house, but they refused to help with funding, so we decided to ask each parent to chip in just a little." _And threw in our own money too,_ she said in her head.

Lizzie swallowed, still facing away from her. "How much was it?"

Kyra named what she thought was a reasonable price. Jordan's mother clenched slightly, her ears reddening.

"That's a bit much," she said in a dangerously even voice.

"Oh, but it's actually pretty fair," Kyra put forth hurriedly, "normally silkworms are pretty expensive to obtain, but we found a local supplier who was willing to give a discount—"

"He's gouging ya, if you ask me." Lizzie snapped a cigarette into her mouth, and Kyra pointed frantically to their "no smoking" sign.

Kyra could sense she was losing the battle and grasped for a straw. "Well, perhaps his father could—" almost before the words were out of her mouth, she knew she had said the wrong thing. Lizzie shot her a stricken look, and dropped her unlit cigarette.

"No," she said, "I…he can't."

"I'm so sorry," Kyra gasped out, "I shouldn't have said that, forget it. I'll just tell Maria to excuse you—"

"_No_," Lizzie said a little more firmly, "I'll…I'll work something out. Somehow. C'mon Jordan."

Kyra stood there, mortified, as Lizzie gathered her little boy's things. She managed to catch up to them at the doorway.

"I-I forgot to give you the address," she stammered out.

Lizzie took it and squinted at it. "Chinatown?"

"From a reliable seller, he's the one who gave us the class hedgehog."

Lizzie grunted a reply. Kyra bent down to tell Jordan goodbye, clandestinely passing his unopened pudding cup to him. _For the road_, she mouthed to him. The boy looked back at her with empty eyes, and then he and his mother were gone.

At home, Jordan's mother shoved him into the playroom and put on a video. She lit her fourth cigarette since leaving the daycare center and stared bleary-eyed into the mirror.

"_Chinatown,"_ she thought, "_**fuck.**_"

* * *

Leon Orcot stared bleary-eyed at a report faxed just that morning, dog-end cigarette hanging limply from the corner of his mouth.

"Chinatown," he said, "_fuck_."

Jill, perched on the edge of his desk, took the paper from Leon's hands and scanned it, _tsk_ing.

"Are you really surprised?" she said, "after all, you seem pretty eager to tie every crime you come across to that shop."

Leon rested his head in a callused hand. "I was kind of hoping I wouldn't have to deal with that creepy fruitcake in this case. It's complicated enough as it is."

Jill snatched the cigarette from Leon's mouth and squashed it like a beetle in a nearby ashtray.  
"All it means is that we have another lead in the case. D's always been really forthcoming with us, and he brings awesome cheesecake, too. What's your problem with him, anyway?"

Leon couldn't really explain what it was about D that simultaneously creeped him out and obsessed him. He had no words for the mixture of exasperation and anger with D's dubious practice, no easy way to point out that while D was always forthcoming with the truth, he never told them all of it.

"He's a weirdo and a sneaky bastard," was all he could say.

Jill snorted and rolled her eyes. "Glad you're not prejudiced, then. He'll be here at 2 sharp, Leon, and the chief would probably look kindly—well, kind_-er_—if you gave the paranoia a break for a while."

Leon leaned back in his chair, dropping his ragged sneakers on the desk. He had been operating on too little sleep and too much coffee all day, his chin dipped low on his chest and the edges of objects were beginning to blur together. Los Angeles was in the grip of a heat wave that the barely-functioning AC managed to reduce to muggy warmth in the office. A wasp droned just outside his window, he could hear small, furious taps as it hurled its body doggedly at the glass. His cigarettes lay in the pocket of his jacket, which had long been abandoned on the coat rack by the door. What Leon wanted, what he really needed right now, was some sleep.

"Sure, what the hell?" he said.

* * *

_Author's note: weelllll, I'm back! I'm kind of resigned to the fact that my output will never be what it once was, inspiration is striking rarely these days. Don't worry, though, I won't leave this one unfinished._


	2. Chapter 2

The streets of the city had all started to blend together in the summer heat. The pet shop's building itself seemed to be hiding, crouching back from the street like an enormous tile-and-stucco cat. Lizzie's clunker drifted into place in front of it, scraped the curb, and stopped. She got out, hot, sweaty, and furious as she crumpled the school's hand-drawn directions and tossed them in the nearest trash can. She missed.

The building's doors rose up in front of her, looking cool and inviting in the stifling heat. She tried to fan some air under her blouse as she locked her car, tucking straggles of hair behind her ears. She had worn one of her nicer outfits, wanting to give the impression of a cool, collected single mom, but that had been wiped out after five minutes in the car. Now soaked through with sweat and cranky, Lizzie strode to the doors and pulled on them. They refused to budge.

She stood very still for a moment, grinding her teeth. Perhaps they opened the other way. She pushed, and the doors stood solid. Lizzie tried to mop the perspiration from her brow. She thought she could feel people staring at her and flushed. Perhaps the more direct approach.

She hammered on the door with a closed fist, feeling horribly self-conscious and frazzled. The door opened just a few inches and a draft of cool air wafted out.

"It's about damn ti—" she started to say, and caught herself. A pair of eyes glittered out at her from the doorway and she bristled instinctively.

The door creaked open still wider and the staring eyes gained a face: a cute, raccoon-like creature. A preteen girl with the most freckles Lizzie had ever seen on a person held it in her arms, blue leash running from its collar to wrap around her hand. She stepped out, almost walking into Lizzie as she looked backwards and waved goodbye.

"Thanks, Countie!" she called, "I mean, _domo arigatou_! I'll take great care of Midori-chan!"

She brushed past Lizzie without even noticing, eyes now intent on her new pet. Lizzie ground her teeth some more. _Looks like a fuzzy turd_, she thought.

"Hot today, isn't it?" came a soothing voice from the doorway, and almost instantly Lizzie felt ashamed.

"I'm sorry," she said sharply.

A beautiful person stood in the doorway like a living, liquid shadow. Their face was sexless and radiant, peering from behind curtains of dark hair.

"Hello-um-ma'am?" she stammered. D shook his head.

"I'm afraid not." He smiled thinly. "Please, do come in. Welcome to Count D's pet shop. In here we have many animals, from common things like cats and dogs to animals that barely slide past the C.I.T.I.E.S list…"

The main room was decorated so ornately that Lizzie felt even more out of place. Silk shone, gold gleamed, light streamed out from strategically hidden lamps.

"You must be thirsty." The Count poured steaming tea into an eggshell-thin cup. "Please, go ahead."

Lizzie hunched on the edge of a sofa, peering about the room with a sort of shocked awe.

D followed her gaze with his eyes, watched her carefully study the filigree work in a wall ornament. He held her tea at arm's length.

"Ahem," he said.

She started, rising slightly from the couch.

"Um, no. No, thank you. Actually, I was told you could help me?"

"Really?" D settled in a high-backed chair opposite her like a giant silk bird alighting on a branch.

"Yeah." She pulled at her top unconsciously. "Caterpillars."

The place and its proprietor seemed to have stunted her ability to talk.

The Count smiled enigmatically. "Ah," he said, "caterpillars."

Lizzie fidgeted a little. "_Well_?"

D steepled his fingers. "Well?"

"_What?_"

"Raising or controlling?"

"Huh?"

The Count leaned forward and inhaled steam from his teacup, savoring it like a wine taster before taking a small sip.

"There are two different ways to approach the larvae of the order Lepidoptera. One is the practice of raising the caterpillars, propagating the species. The other is controlling the population through…_biological_ means."

"Oh… _raising_, I guess."

The enigmatic man in front of her set his teacup down and clasped his hands again. "Then we have much to discuss. The order Lepidoptera covers a wide variety of winged creatures, from the humble _**Ephestia kuehniella**_ to the regal _**Danaus plexippus**_. What particular species do you have in mind?"

Lizzie stood up and blurted out, "look, the school sent me, I don't even-"

The Count was standing and shushing her with his fingertips before she could blink.

"Let me show you to them, and then you can decide."

She wasn't quite sure why or when the Count took her arm, or why she stayed silent as they wound through numerous dark hallways. There was a pleasant, woody fragrance in the air that got heavier the longer they walked. Her body seemed to float freely after a while, bobbing like a cork in the wake of the Count's smooth stride. They stopped before an ancient stone door that looked as if it weighed a ton.

The Count smiled and relinquished her hand, opening the door at a touch. A blast of old, dry air hit her face and she coughed. D smiled gently and took her hand again, pulling her into the dim chamber behind him.

"Of course," he went on, "butterflies and moths have been present in art since time immemorial. They flutter through hieroglyphs, silk paintings, even through the minds of philosophers. Zhuangzi dreamed of a butterfly dreaming he was a man, and to the Greeks they represented the soul. And yet they are not without their detractors…"

_Bodies_. The room was full of bodies. Lizzie was dimly aware of terror, a sudden rush of panic, but it was distant, and did not seem to matter very much right now.

The people, whether corpses or comatose, were ethereally beautiful. Some hung from the ceiling, draped in sheer fabric, others reclined in sarcophagi, wrapped in gauze. All were perfectly still.

"Are they dead?" she heard herself ask.

D smiled at her secretively. "No, but not alive, either. They hover on the brink between the two, waiting to wake."

She passed among the tombs, idly dragging her hand along their ends. Here and there she thought she could see breath puff out from hidden mouths. She stopped at the end of an aisle.

"What do you think?"

"Beautiful." She breathed.

"Now which one will you take?"

Lizzie pulled back from the brink of…wherever she was, and became herself again. "Silkworms. I was sent here for silkworms."

D's Cheshire grin widened ever so slightly. "Ah, _**Bombyx Mori**_, a lovely choice. Offspring of the silk moth."

Lizzie nose crinkled. "Ugh, I hate moths. They're so…" she trailed off, throat suddenly tight.

"What?" D asked gently.

"…_ugly._" She crossed her arms on her chest, looking around at the finery. Her bra strap had crept down her arm on the walk down. She chased it back up again.

"Really?" the Count's face showed mock surprise. "_She_ is ugly?"

Lizzie followed D's pointed finger and gasped. A woman hung suspended in front of her, moon-colored robes trailing the ground. She had the face of a fairy queen and the dress of a Chinese empress.

"This is the royal lady herself, descended from the original caterpillars kept in the Forbidden Kingdom. Legend has it that Empress Xi Ling-Shi found the secret of silk when a chrysalis dropped into her teacup, unraveling silk threads finer than any human worker could spin. The discovery helped to build an empire…a humble, _ugly_ moth."

Lizzie's hand crept towards it, jerking back as D's voice went from soothing to sardonic.

"I'm not here for a _moth_," she spat out, "I'm here to pay a fee so my son's school can have some worms that crap thread. I don't need to be here!" without realizing it, she had raised her voice.

D's gaze was level and cool. She hadn't noticed until now, but his eyes were two different colors. "I see. But…I would like to _give_ you one. Free of charge. With your school payment, of course."

Lizzie gazed around the room, eyes wandering lazily from body to body. The nutcase wanted her to take one. Fuck, she was in the same room as a madman, and she couldn't even get up the effort to be pissed off about it.

"Whatever." She shrugged dismissively.

D held out his hand. "Which one would you prefer?"

She stalked down the aisles, growing impatient. Jordan had been left in her neighbor's care since noon, and she didn't want to give the old busybody any more fuel for gossip than she had to. She glanced from tomb to tomb, reading and trying to make sense of the names. Some of the lovelier hanging beauties had their names embroidered on their shrouds, most of them, she figured, were moths. It was a shame and a waste, she thought, for all that beauty to turn plain. Then she turned her eyes to the figures lying in coffins. They had more nondescript coverings, but she felt that they hid a loveliness under their wraps that made her ache inside. Giddy, she practically danced down a row, stopped, and turned around.

A slight, feminine figure was swaddled in great drifts of gauze, chest rising and falling ever so slightly. Lizzie felt her heart pound with excitement as she turned to D. "This one. I want this one."

D's expression was unreadable. "I see. Let me draw up a contract."

The piece of paper seemed fairly straightforward, but the words blurred and her hands shook as she tried to read it. She gave up after a few tries and just signed it. D told her more about its care, what she should do once it hatched, but she was no longer listening. There was no body in sight, but D handed her a carved wooden box. Inside a chrysalis lay nestled in blue satin. She tripped to the door, a strange lightness in her heart.

"…should the occasion arise." D intoned. "And now, a last warning—"

Lizzie crinkled her nose. "What, _now_ a warning? You have me halfway out the door and now a warning?"

D smiled with the patience of a mother. "With some caterpillars, there is a slight risk of—"

"Let me put it this way," she broke in, "if anything happens, _anything_, I'm calling the cops on you quicker than you can say Jack Robinson."

With that parting shot, she hip-checked the door open and vanished into the mid-afternoon haze. D watched her leave.

"Yes," he said, "a slight risk, though not an unforeseen possibility."

* * *

The androgynously lovely man sat in the one comfy chair in the office, picnic basket on one arm.

"But of course we had a picnic today," he said, as if outings with the man who dedicated his life to incarcerating him were completely natural.

Leon rested his forehead in his hand while Jill smiled disarmingly at the Count.

"Well, we never said you _couldn't_," she said warmly, "but first we need your help. There's been a disappearance...one of your customers."

"Really?" He buttered a small croissant. "Which one?"

From behind his hand, Leon growled, "Elizabeth Greenwood, you asshole."

As Jill rolled up her sleeve and prepared to smack her partner, a shadow fell over D's face. He dropped the croissant.

"Oh," he said, "_her_."

Leon looked up just in time for Jill's fist to graze the air by his ear. "You remember her?"

"Yes," the Count sighed, "sadly. Very few customers walk off in the middle of care instructions, and those few stick unpleasantly in my mind. I was just giving her a quick lesson on the risks of caterpillar care—"

"_Risks_?" Leon snorted. "Oh no, it might develop a taste for blood! Whatever you do, don't look like a flower!" This time Jill's hand connected.

D made a wry face as he retrieved his croissant. "No, detective, you are thinking of the smaller picture. There are several insect species that, when introduced to the U.S., destroyed entire crops and upset the balance of the native ecosystems forever."

Leon bolted up, unmindful of the spreading pools of sweat under his arms. "You gave her something like _that_?" he hissed.

"No, of course not." D narrowed his eyes. "Such things are not _pets_, they are natural forces that must be respected and monitored. But many insects, though in theory 'harmless', can carry danger with them. The mosquito is a vector for many different diseases, a humble beetle can contaminate entire warehouses with its brood, snails will contain the eggs of—"

"Enough." Leon waved his hands as Jill squirmed in disgust.

"But you see my point. The insect I gave her was perfectly harmless, but it was…_vulnerable_."

* * *

_Author's note: yes, this is going to be mostly about insects, peppered with little bits o' trivia._


	3. Chapter 3

Kyra was over by the bookshelves the next day, while Jordan played with another boy under the watchful eye of an older attendant. Lizzie breathed a sigh of relief and went to collect her son.

She'd been wary since she'd come back from the shop. The drive home had seemed to take no time at all, but it was dusk when she arrived home again. The box lay on the passenger seat, with the chrysalis safely inside, but she didn't remember getting around to paying the man. Too bad, she wasn't going back there unless it was with a cop.

The attendant, a plump, motherly woman named Rose, straightened up and smiled wide as Lizzie approached.

"Oh, Lizzie! And how are you today, my dear?"

"Fine, I guess." Lizzie smiled back. "Just tired I guess."

"Oh my, would you like something to drink? We also have aspirin, if you like."

Lizzie's smile turned pained. "No, thank you, you're far too kind."

"It's no trouble," Rose said as she took her arm and led her back to the 'helpers only' lounge, "no trouble at all."

Kyra followed them with her eyes. Lizzie repressed a shudderwhen the door closed behind her.

Rose busied herself making tea while the other attendants on break greeted her. They were all over forty, all of them maternal and solicitous about her health.

"How are you today, my dear?" Agnes said as she gave Lizzie a hug. Georgie did the same, Linda and Kelly too.

The door swung open and a male attendant emerged, coffee cup in hand. Lizzie's face froze completely, and Georgie immediately shooed him out the door.

"Ladies only," she giggled.

They asked how she was holding up, how her job was working out, how Jordan behaved at home.

"Oh he's just fine," she said, sipping watery chamomile, "I barely even notice he's there… But my work's getting pretty hectic, and I found out the other day that someone was stealing tips from me."

This led to outraged murmuring among the other women.

"How awful!"

"Despicable!"

"They should be let go!"

"_Wellllllll_…" Lizzie rolled the mug in her hands, basking in the warmth, "I'm sure she feels she needs the money more than me. I just wished she didn't lie about it to our supervisor. He's had it in for me since day one, and I just know he's going to fire me one of these days."

"Poor thing!" Linda patted her arm. "Don't you worry, if money gets tight, we can always take up a collection, I'm sure there are plenty of people willing to help out a single mother."

"Such a wretched thing to do," Kelly sighed, "And how awful for you, after all that you went through with Jordan's father—"

Lizzie sighed and tears spilled from the corners of her eyes. It wasn't long before she was sniffing and sobbing miserably.

"I just-" she whimpered, "I try so _hard_, and I-"

Before Lizzie was done crying she had been given a Tupperware container full of soup, two books of coupons, and Georgie's grandsons' sweater, which she accepted with tearful thanks. Jordan had neatly gathered his things together while his mother had been in the room, and stood completely ready by the bookshelves.

The attendants gathered in the doorway to wave them off. Lizzie saw Kyra, squashed to the side of happy well-wishers, chewing her lip.

At home, she gave the soup to Jordan and microwaved herself some nachos. She tried to watch TV, but a tantalizing scent kept drifting past her nose. It took her a while to realize the scent came from her bedroom. She opened the door and a wonderful, powerful smell washed over her. On the bed, by the open box, lay the tiny female mummy. Lizzie crawled on top of the figure and petted it, breathing in the wonderful scent. It was funny, but the woman in the sheet matched her almost exactly in height and build.

"Pretty," she said, "_pretty._"

* * *

Leon rolled his eyes. "So you're telling me you just sold the lady a cocoon."

"Correct, detective."

"Not some poisonous worm, or some kind of beetle that burrows into yours skin, right?"

Jill cut D's reply off. "What the hell kind of question is _that_?"

"I just want to make sure what we're dealing with here," Leon snapped, "and that we're not going to find her in a thousand pieces or swelling up and turning blue."

"My, detective," D said with mild reproach, "that's a little extreme, isn't it?"

Leon's stare bore down on him like a magnifying glass. "Is it?"

It was Jill's turn to roll her eyes. "Look, D all we really want to know was your impression of her. Was she anxious? Scared? Did she mention an ex-husband? Boyfriend?"

D considered the question for a moment, smiled sunnily and shook his head. "Nope."

Jill sighed. "Then we're lost. Sometimes the bastards are too good at tracking their families down, they don't even feel the knife."

D looked from her to Leon, puzzled. "What is she talking about, detective?"

"E-Li-za-beth Green-wood. Miss-ing. With-her-child." Leon spat it out in telegraph fashion.

The count seemed to pale slightly. "So," he breathed, "it's like _that_."

Leon blinked. "Like what?"

D did not answer the question. Instead, he fished a roll stuffed with delicacies from his basket, the aroma of which made Leon's mouth water. As he lifted the top and spread cream cheese on it he said:

"Perhaps you should talk with those she knew, detective. People she was familiar to."

Leon ran his fingers through his hair, trying to ignore his grumbling stomach. "Look, we talked to the daycare workers; they were the closest to her at the time. She picked up her son, like always, and dropped off the face of the earth. That all they can say."

"Really?" D purred, "Is that _everyone_?"

"Yes! She didn't have any friends, just a single mom working her butt off like a million others in this city. There's nothing special about her, besides the fact that no one knows where the fuck she went!" Leon stood up.

D put a finger to his lips. "Perhaps you're missing something. Perhaps…not everyone knows her the same way."

Jill smiled at him. "You've got a point. We need to do what we do best—detect."

"Yeah, yeah." Leon sat again, flapping his hand dismissively. D finished his administrations to the sandwich and slid it across the desk, coming to a perfect stop just under Leon's nose.

"Hungry?" D said.

* * *

It was getting harder and harder to leave the apartment. Lizzie managed to tear herself away long enough to pick up Jordan, but she could feel the guilt of separation in the back of her mind as she pulled into the preschool parking lot.

Once inside, she saw Kyra and Georgie standing over Jordan and felt cold fear bloom in her stomach. As she approached, Kyra nudged the other woman, who broke out into a smile.

"Lizzie, dear!" she cried, "Can we have a little chat while Kyra helps him get ready?"

Georgie drew her to the other side of the room.

"You haven't….your ex isn't _back_, is he?"

Lizzie fervently shook her head.

"Oh, good then." Georgie clapped her hands. "For a moment there I was quite concerned. Lizzie dear, we think it might be time to teach little Jordie about conflict resolution."

"Conflict resolution?" Lizzie smiled in the direction of her son. "What do you mean?"

Georgie gave a little laugh. "Well, I wish more children had his '_problem_', to tell you the truth. Jordie's just too meek. He won't stand up to the other little boys."

"Oh…well I guess that's not so bad."

"They've been picking on him quite a bit, it seems. He has a few bruises to show for his pacifism."

Panic stole over Lizzie's feature before she suppressed it. "Well," she babbled, "when he plays at home sometimes he's just out there on the steps and I don't half know what he's up to-"

Georgie guffawed loudly. "Trust me, I know the feeling! Here's little Jordie now, ready to go home!"

The painfully serious little boy stopped in front of his mother, gazing at the bit of carpet between her feet. Kyra stopped beside him, wasting a questioning look on Georgie. The older woman waved a pudgy hand, flapping it at the wrist.

"Good-bye Jordie," she boomed, "take care!"

Lizzie took hold of Jordan's shoulder and steered him towards the door.

"Take care, Mrs. Greenwood!" Kyra called after them.

Lizzie's face froze once again, but she was on her way out the door and was sure no one had seen it.

Once they were home she heated a microwave pizza, tossed it in Jordan's room and locked the door. She resisted the urge to go straight to her room and instead went to the empty bathroom.

She shook her hair from its tight knot on the top of her head and slipped off her clothes. She stood there a long time, staring, the empty glass eye of the mirror staring back.

* * *

Elizabeth Greenwood had worked at a small bar on the outskirts of the city, more like a restaurant that sold food. A young woman greeted them at the door with a puzzled smile.

"Hey, can I help you?"

The two detectives smiled back in unison, and the waitress's internal cop alarm went off.

"I'm not ratting on anybody," she informed them and turned on her heel.

"Wait, we want to know about Elizabeth Greenwood!"

The young woman stopped and turned around. "Oh," she said, "that's different. Follow me."

She showed them to a small booth where Leon tried unsuccessfully to cram himself in after Jill, who slipped in with no trouble. The waitress, whose nametag read "Sandi", smiled knowingly.

"Sorry sugar," she said, patting his arm, "usually the big guys belly up to the bar. Can I get you some water?"

She blushed at their stares. "Sorry, instinct."

"It's no problem, really." Jill smiled.

"What did you want to ask me about Lizzie?"

Leon adjusted his torso, feeling the circulation cut off to the lower half of his body.

"We want to ask if you know where she went."

Sandi gave them a puzzled look.

"She's been gone for a while, right?"

"Oh yeah." Sandi nodded. "Never showed up for her shift. We had no trouble filling in for her, though."

Jill's face became grave, and Leon let out a low whistle.

"Well, do you know if she might have gone off with someone, maybe an ex boyfriend or something like that?"

"Maybe. It's not that usual, but knowing her…" Sandi trailed off.

Leon raised an eyebrow and looked at Jill.

Jill laced her fingers together. "So there was no trouble replacing her?"

"Yeah. You didn't know?" Sandi looked from Leon to Jill. "She was _awful_."

* * *

_Author's note: from here on out time sort of jumps around, just keep in mind that Leon's scenes are happening in the present and you shouldn't get too lost ;)_


	4. Chapter 4

Lizzie stopped going to work after a while. The hot water was turned off, but since she didn't shower anymore, she didn't notice.

She hadn't packed a lunch for Jordan in almost a week, but he never complained of hunger. The attendants at Pine Ridge probably fed him.

The lady had started to move.

Microscopic twitches had turned into slow, gentle stirrings. Lizzie imagined what the lady looked like underneath her shroud, made up stories for her. She was the exiled queen of a kingdom on the moon. She was an ancient sorceress, who commanded the instant worship of everyone who saw her. She was a dead goddess, lovely and terrible, who had been enshrined by her worshippers.

Jordan came into the room sometimes and asked for food. He had to ask quite a few times to get his mother's attention. She told him to kindly fuck off.

One day, she realized that she had not seen him in some time. She called listlessly around the apartment for him before realizing that he was probably at Pine Ridge. She managed to peel herself away from the lady on the bed and looked for her car keys. Funny, she hadn't noticed time passing this fast. It was almost evening by the time she made it outdoors.

Her car juddered to a start, the needle hovering on "E". She drove slowly and clumsily, her limbs did not want to move.

Pine Ridge's parking lot was nearly empty of cars. Good, she hated talking to the other parents.

The door was unlocked, though the lights were off and it seemed like no one was there.

"Jordan?" she called through the glass. "Jordie?"

No answer. She pushed groggily on the door for a minute until remembering that it opened the other way. She chuckled at her mistake.

Inside was dark, cold, and silent. The AC hissed gently as Lizzie floated dreamily over the floor, her feet barely touching the ground.

"Jordie," she called. Nothing by the blocks.

"Jordie," she called. No one in storybook corner.

"Jordie," she called. A small mound covered by Jordie's jacket lay inside the big world play area. Lizzie smiled triumphantly and drifted over to her son. She took hold of her son and shook his shoulder.

"I know you," said someone behind her.

* * *

Back at the precinct, Leon scowled and scratched furiously at his five o' clock shadow.

"Well, where the hell does this put us?" he groused. Jill poured herself another cup of coffee and sighed.

"Back to square one, I guess."

D handed her a small sweet on a square of paper. "Now, now, all you have to do is look at the evidence in new light."

Leon's scowl deepened. "Oh, is that all?"

D smiled and handed him a sweet. "Really, detective, you must try. Look at caterpillars."

Leon looked blankly at the Count, then at the sweet. "Caterpillars? Is that what's in that thing?"

D sighed and lowered the sweet. "No, but I suppose the word _amaretto_ means nothings to you. Take the caterpillar. What images does that word bring up to you?"

Leon furrowed his brow. "Sticks, leaves, cocoons, butterflies-"

"Ah." The Count raised a finger. "But other insects have larvae, too. Other larvae can build pupae, sometimes almost identical to the order Lepidoptera. "

"Oh fabulous," Leon said, "You've cleared it up nicely, thanks."

The Count smile, not unkindly, and took Leon's hand. "Have you even found a chrysalis, perhaps in your own backyard?"  
"Sure I have. What kid hasn't?"

"Then," the Count's smile widened, "has it ever hatched into something you didn't expect?"

* * *

The girl, Kyra, stood by the bookshelves. Lizzie wasn't sure how she hadn't noticed her.

"I know who you are," she said again, "and I don't think I like you."

Lizzie bristled. "Don't pretend you know me, little girl. I'm sure someone like you could never—"

"Elizabeth Greenwood."

"What?"

"Elizabeth Greenwood. She's a mystery writer. In Wales. I looked her up the other day. She's fifty-eight, has five kids, and a small series of mystery novels." Kyra stepped out of the shadows.

Lizzie felt a small panic build. "So? It's- it's a pretty common name!"

Kyra smiled patronizingly. "I'm sure. But that's not you. I know the real you. I've seen your face."

Jordan stirred at her feet. Lizzie prepared to run, leave his things behind.

"Yes, that face," Kyra continued, "the face you make whenever someone asks how your ex…husband, was it? Or boyfriend? I could never keep it straight."

Lizzie snarled. "Bitch, I'll tell you about my ex!"

Kyra looked at her calmly. "Oh, please, please _do_."

"He-"

"He promised to leave his wife, right? Oh, I'm sorry, he knocked you up before you were eighteen. No, wait, he was a violent trucker who hit you and your baby." Kyra's stare was arctic. "Please tell me when I get near the truth."

Lizzie swallowed, suddenly her throat felt ragged. "They're…he…"

"Just make sure it doesn't contradict the stories I got from the others, though how that could be possible I don't know."

Kyra came to a stop just in front of her. "That wasn't what tipped me off, though. You know what did?"

Lizzie couldn't answer. Instinct screamed at her to grab Jordan and get out, or at least get out.

* * *

Leon sat silent at his desk, hunger and regret gnawing at his insides. The woman was gone, along with her little boy, younger than Chris, and he sat here with nothing to show for it.

D had become the office fairy, passing out sweets and snacks to his fellow officers. Leon cringed when he heard Jim Nayart, twenty-year veteran and captain of the precinct's baseball team, squeal like a little girl when handed a fancy éclair.

D handed out his last sweet and drifted over to Leon's desk. "Still stumped, detective?"

"Yeah," he sighed morosely, "and I'm not doing any good for that kid either. I figure he's got the worst of it, either way."

D patted his arm. "Have a sandwich. You'll think better on a full stomach."

Leon growled, but bit into a stuffed pastry. At least he would have one less pain distracting him.

He thought of the girl at the bar, her testimony had thrown them off completely.

"_Yeah," the girl said, "we're a lot better off without her working here. I was actually pretty glad when she left."_

_Jill's face mirrored his own shock. "You're…happy she's gone?"_

_Sandi shrugged. "More relieved, I guess. I'll get a lot more tips without her here, I know that much."_

_Jill's shock turned to outrage, but Leon felt oddly curious. "More tips?"_

"_Without her stealing them, yeah." Sandi cocked one hip and partially sat on the table. "But stealing money wasn't the half of it, man. That girl was poison. She tried to turn everyone against each other, even Sam and me. I lost my best friend since I was six to that bitch, not that it lasted. I guess in the end she just couldn't stop lying, and it all collapsed on her."_

_The two detectives gaped at her. Sandi drew herself up tall. "What? It's the truth. Ask Sam."_

_Sam, the owner, was behind the bar Counter. He confirmed Sandi's story, upping the ante with "I hope she never comes back, either."_

"_She really took money that didn't belong to her?"_

"_Wellll," Sam drawled, "there's lying to people so they'll give you money, and then there's just flat-out stealing. She did both. She hit up everyone for gas fare, food money, always sobbin' her little eyes out. She 'almost' had her gas shut off ten times in the same week before we got wise to her. She'd short people on change and skim the till, and it'd take forever to untangle who did what. I was just getting ready to kick her to the curb when she stopped coming in."_

"_Not that we were that worried," Sandi cut in, "she never worked her assigned shift, and sometimes she wouldn't come in for days on end. It was a while before we noticed, we were all at each other's throats."_

_Jill cleared her throat. "So, was there a man in the picture?"_

"_Sure," Sam chuckled, "a ton of 'em. She picked up customers all the time."_

"_What about an ex?" Leon asked._

"_Oh yeah," Sandi replied, "plenty of those, but we never saw any of 'em. She'd come back from a few days off with these wild tales about her ex kidnapping her kid and trying to make her do drugs, crazy shit like that. We finally caught her one day after she said her ex took her car keys, so she couldn't come to work. Tracy saw her at a salon, getting her hair streaked. That's about the time we started putting two and two together."_

_Jill nodded. "Thank you for your time."_

_They had a silent ride back to the precinct._

"If she was really that bad," Leon mused, "why didn't anyone else notice? The sweet old ladies at the preschool swore up and down that her ex had kidnapped her and the kid when they called us."

D had pulled up a chair beside him. "Yes, but which ex? Did you ask their individual stories? They might have conflicted with each other."

Leon ground his face into his hand. Now he was simply tired, grouchy, frustrated, and hot. The hunger, however, had vanished.

"So a poor, innocent working mom turns out to be not so innocent and poor, and I'm still nowhere on this case. This is going to drag on for months, I know it."

"Actually," replied a timid voice "I might be able to help."

An older woman had appeared behind D, looking nervous.

"I know Lizzie," she said, "I happen to be her mother."

* * *

"It was that look you get, when someone asks about your ex. Or when someone talks about your relationship with your son. I used to see it on my father's face when he swore up and down that my mother had tripped…" she took a step closer, "or run into a door…" another step, "or fell down the stairs…"

Kyra stood too close, staring her right in the eye. Though she barely exceeded Lizzie in height, the preschool worker seemed to tower over her.

"It's the look of a bad liar who is afraid that someone will catch them out, that _this_ lie is the one they will see through. It is the look of a coward, panicking, because they might have to face someone who can fight back."

Lizzie swallowed. The door to the outside was just in the periphery of her vision, she just needed a chance.

"It's funny," Kyra said, crossing her arms, "but when she finally went to court to divorce him, he swore up and down that she'd done it to _herself_, that she'd cheated on him, that he was really the one who deserved my sister and I…and that's what I really can't stand, Ms. Greenwood or _whatever_ your name is, when someone like _you_ pretends to be a victim—"

Lizzie's purse sailed through the air; Kyra caught it just as Lizzie wrenched her son up from the ground and bolted for the door. With the few second's head start, she was out the door before Kyra was halfway across the floor, starting her car as the other woman flung the door open and raced after them. Her car peeled out of the parking lot, ran a stop sign, and roared into the night.

Jordan huddled in the passenger's seat, staring at his mother. "Where are we going?"

Lizzie smiled. "Home," she whispered, "_home_."

* * *

"Hello, Mrs. Greenwood?"

The woman's brow crumpled in confusion. "Who?"

Leon coughed into his hand. "I'm sorry, have a seat. Your name, please?"

The woman smiled and gently lowered herself into the chair unoccupied by Count D. "Rachel Graham. I think you might know my daughter."

Jill scrambled to find a notepad. "We might. Have you heard from your daughter lately?"

"No, not in four years."

The pen stopped before it hit paper. "Excuse me?"

"I haven't heard from her in four years. Her landlord found my number on some old forms and called me, apparently she's missed out on quite a bit of rent."

"So, you don't know what your daughter's been up to?"

"I was hoping you could tell me that." the older woman smiled joylessly. "We ended on…less than friendly terms. I never stopped worrying about her, though."

Jill began writing. "It might help us if you could tell me what she was like. How did she grow up?"

"Poor." The older woman sighed. "But I worked hard so that she could have the same things that other children could. My husband died when she was two, and Lizzie became my world. I did everything for her, to make her feel that she was loved…and special."

She shook her head. "I think that was part of the problem. She was always telling me about the horrible things the other children did to her, and I would go off on their parents, the teachers, anyone. It got worse as she got older, and I almost took her out of school a few times. Then one day the police showed up. Apparently I had been reported as a severe child abuser, depriving the daughter I had worked my hands to the bone for of food, locking her in our basement, things like that. What had I done?" she laughed miserably. "I had told her that we didn't have the money for a set of clothes she wanted to buy, and when she stole money from me to buy it, I made her sit in her room for an hour."

Jill's pen scribbled furiously on the paper. "She called the police on her own mother?"

"Yes, though it wasn't the last time. I began to notice that whenever she accused the other children of doing something, the other children accused her of doing it herself and blaming them. I finally caught her out when she blamed another girl in her class for taking a piece of jewelry. The other girl said that Lizzie had stolen a ring from her, the only thing she had left to remember her grandmother. I…found it in my daughter's things. When I confronted Lizzie with it, she just looked and me and said," The old woman leaned forward and put her head in her hands, "she said, 'but mom, I _deserve_ it' and burst into tears."

D patted her hand, and she started. The enigmatic man gave her a comforting smile.

"So you're saying she's a compulsive liar?" Leon confirmed.

"Yes, among other things. She took my wedding dress; I'm not sure what she did with it because I never saw it again. Once I stopped believing everything she said, we stopped being friends and she became my enemy. She began to tell her boyfriends that I would hit her, take her money, do drugs. She would have somewhere else to sleep for a while, until it fell through and she would drag herself back home. It was this vicious cycle that just went on and on….until she got pregnant."

* * *

_Author's note: man this was a talky chapter. I'll try not to be the exposition fairy in the future, sorry. Final chapter is next!_


	5. Chapter 5

When they got home, Lizzie shoved Jordan in his room and locked the door, breaking the key off in the lock. She slammed every window in the apartment shut. Then she went to her room.

The woman lay heaving on the bed. Her prison had torn raggedly in the middle, exposing inner layers of silken wrap. Lizzie felt her heart pound as she climbed up beside it, resting her cheek on the soft fabric. Soon, so soon, she would be born anew. The old life fell away, and a goddess shucked off the last of her plain dressings.

She radiated cold beauty, pale and perfect. The goddess stood before Lizzie and spoke like the droning of a thousand wings.

"_I am thy fate, child,_" she said, "_thine own mirror. What does thou wish?_"

Lizzie found her voice. "I want everything," she cried triumphantly, "I want power and love and fear and everything they never gave me!"

The goddess held out her hands, her fingernails were long and diamond-sharp.

"_Then come, child, and hear my gospel_."

Lizzie felt rapture overtake her as she felt the goddess's lips, soft and cold, on her throat. With a single pinprick, perfection bloomed in her heart.

* * *

"The boy she had been seeing, Jake, was sent to jail on battery charges. He was cleared of them soon after, but he was never quite the same. Lizzie refused to have anything to do with him, despite the fact that his parents begged the two to get married and live with them. "

"And you?" Jill asked.

"By then I was done with Lizzie's attempts to ruin other people's lives. I refused to give her money when she came calling one day and I…said something I'm not proud of."

Jill put down the notepad. "Please, ma'am, if you think it will help with the investigation."

Mrs. Graham took a deep, shuddery breath. "I told her that she should get an abortion, because no child deserved her for a mother."

Jill dropped her pen with a clatter. Leon stared at the woman, who looked as if she'd just eaten glass.

"It's how I felt at the time…and still do, I'm afraid. Jake's parents volunteered to raise the baby, but by that time Lizzie had gone, with a few hundred dollars she'd managed to squeeze from her friends. I didn't hear from her again." She stopped and squeezed her eyes shut. " I might not have bothered, but she has a _child_, officer, a child she can't possibly feel anything for, not love or even empathy. I want you to save that child, please, because they've done nothing to deserve any of this."

Leon took the woman's hand. She smiled at him and touched his wrist with her other hand.

"What about your daughter?" he asked.

Her smile turned grim as she told him, "detective, you can't save her from herself."

* * *

Kyra answered the door in her uniform. She'd been home for hours.

Leon showed her his badge. "Miss Henderson? We'd like to ask you a few questions."

Kyra ignored the badges. "I know where they are." She whispered, voice hollow.

"What?" Jill barked.

"You're looking for Jordan's mother, right? You've checked their apartment?"

"Of course."

Behind Kyra, a woman's voice called out in pain. She turned her back to the detectives. "Just a minute, mom."

She turned back. "You haven't checked the right apartment; they haven't lived there in days. One of the senior attendants has a small apartment in her son's tenement building. She gave Lizzie the keys to it over a month ago, Lizzie's probably there right now."

Jill scoffed. "Why wouldn't the attendants mention this? Do you really expect us to believe that the people who called in the search would lie to hide her?"

Kyra smiled enigmatically. "Let me tell you a little bit about Lizzie Greenwood…"

* * *

The door had been bolted, but the board splintered easily under Leon's boot. They charged in, guns drawn, and the smell hit them. A thick, overpowering funk was almost solid in the air, several veteran police officers gagged and retched.

The power was completely off, and thick spore-like dust drifted in front of the officer's flashlights. Leon took point and made his way down the hall, kicking open doors. The last one turned out to be to a closet with the younger Graham inside. Leon jumped back, startled, as the young boy stared listlessly back at him.

"We got a live one!" he shouted down the hall, and crouched down in front of the boy.

"Hey, little guy," he said, "we've been looking for you. You okay?"

The boy stared mutely back at him, and Leon felt a pang of guilt. He picked the boy up, feeling ribs too close to the surface, hip bones sticking out like knives.

"We're not gonna let her hurt you again, okay?" he whispered in the little boy's ear, "I promise. Never again."

Johnson had taken point, kicking in the rest of the hall doors. Behind the last was Elizabeth Graham.

It was hard to reconcile the slight, attractive girl in family photos to this nightmare. Her hair curled Medusa-like away from her head, the bones in her skull were clearly evident. She had not showered or eaten in several days, nor had she gotten much sleep by the looks of things. Lizzie stared at them with red-rimmed eyes, mad and triumphant.

"Pre'ey," she cooed, "so "pre'ey."

She rocked back and forth on the bed, drool escaping from the corner of her mouth. Leon, horribly fascinated by the spectacle, could not look away. Jill drew her gun.

"Miss Greenwood, I want your hands up where I can see them!"

Lizzie laughed with a gurgle. "So pre'ey. Pre'ey, pre'ey bu'fly…"

Leon could hear a rasping sound that rose and fell with increasing severity. He realized too late what it was.

"Shit! She's choking!"

An officer dove for her, but Lizzie collapsed on the bed, gasping, convulsing. Her throat swelled and turned a nauseating purple while the officer tried to dislodge whatever it was from her throat. Leon realized that he still held her son in his arms and turned away. That was how he noticed the wasp.

It was fairly tiny, as wasps go, and a gorgeous jewel-green. Leon raised the palm of his hand to smash it, when a glass jar darted in front of his nose and over the insect.

"Disrupting evidence at a crime scene, Leon?" D ticked his finger from side to side, "tsk, tsk."

He quickly and efficiently capped the jar, whose inhabitant began buzzing furiously against the glass.

"How the hell do you know that's evidence?" Leon snarled, adjusting his grip on the boy.

D shrugged helplessly. "What can I say? It's what you might call a hunch." He made sure the lid was on tight and handed it to the boy.

"Here," he said, "pretty."

The boy's eyes followed the insect as Leon turned back to the bed. Lizzie had died, throat swollen enormously, with a smile on her face. It wouldn't be so bad, Leon thought, if her smile wasn't so damn _smug_.

* * *

The boy sat on one of the precinct sofas, swimming in Leon's jacket. They had scrubbed him off a little and given him a sandwich, but the boy just sat there shivering. Leon could hardly blame the little guy.

The coroner had ruled Elizabeth Graham had died in allergic reaction, though to _what_, they couldn't say. The woman had locked both herself and her son in the apartment for days, with little in the way of food or facilities. Once the true nature of her money troubles were known, the preschool workers were alternatively ashamed and enraged at their own blindness. Jill managed to comfort them by pointing out that if they had not called the police with a suspected kidnapping, the little boy might very well be dead.

Leon felt drained, emotionally and physically. At least the heat abated when the sun went down. He sat at his desk and debated blowing off paperwork for a good, stiff drink.

"Such a lot of fuss, detective." D slid down in the chair before him. "Perhaps the poor boy should be somewhere quiet?"

Leon groaned. "I've had a long day, Count, take that shit outside."

D laughed softly. "I take it you've learned about caterpillars?"

The detective threw a hand over his face. "No, D. Tell me about the caterpillars. Do they tell you to burn things?"

D's lips quirked in a smile. "As I've said, other insects have larvae, other insects use cocoons. Take _this_ interesting specimen."

He set the glass jar on Leon's desk. Its jeweled prisoner beat the walls with its body, buzzing fury.

"This is a species of _Ichneumon_ wasp, a family of predators who survive by laying their eggs in a host—often a caterpillar—" Leon's face went slightly green, "which eventually hatch and eat the other caterpillar for sustenance. This particular species of wasp actually lays its eggs _inside_ the developing pupa, so that when it comes time for the other insect to hatch, a wasp emerges instead."

"That's fucking horrifying."

"Indeed. And yet it is an indispensible member of the animal kingdom."

Leon squinted at it. "Wait, what did you say you gave that woman?"

"A simple fruit butterfly chrysalis. Rather plain, actually. There was no way to know that this was developing inside it."

Leon's hand tightened on the jar.

"Before you ask, detective, no, the venom of this particular wasp is not deadly. Not to humans, anyway."

"Only to caterpillars?"

D nodded. "Very good detective, you're learning!"

"Whoop-de-shit." Leon contemplated the tiny insect. "And why shouldn't I smash the hell out of this parasitic bastard?"

"As I said, it is indispensible for the very reason you loathe it. It controls the population of pests that would overwhelm the world if left unchecked."

"I still think it's fucking creepy."

D sighed. "Well, no one said you had to love it. It fulfills a purpose, though, you must admit."

"I guess." Leon shrugged heavily.

Over by the couch, Jordan was being reunited with his grandmother, who petted his head.

"Dear, dear Jordan," she whispered, "you've been through a lot, haven't you?" she wrapped him up in a hug. "You have a father who wants to meet you, dear; he's been waiting so long."

The boy hung limply in her grasp as she cuddled him to her body. Arrangements were being made for them to stay over the weekend while his grandmother chartered a flight back to their hometown. On their way out, they met a familiar face.

"Hey kiddo," Kyra said, "what's up?"

Her smile faded as she took in the boy's blank stare. Before his grandmother could react, Kyra grabbed him in a fierce hug and whispered something in his ear. She let him go, slightly flushed, and stood up.

"Remember that, okay?" she commanded, "no one can take that away from you."

She pulled something she'd been keeping in a coat pocket out with a flourish. It was a pudding cup,

"Here," Kyra whispered, "one for the road, okay?"

Looking up at her, the boy finally reacted. He smiled.

* * *

_Author's note: wow, this was a little draining to write. About the wasp, yes the ichneumon wasp family really does lay its eggs on cute little caterpillars, but so far I'm not aware of any wasp laying its eggs inside a developing pupa.(that would be a nasty shock, wouldn't it?) _


End file.
